


#36 - Paper

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge [8]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, brief thoughts of death, extreme self-deprication, im a fan of that tag, just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 00:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: The GCPD finds Riddler after he has a mental breakdown. Having no evidence to convict him of anything at the moment, Jim goes to Oswald in the hopes that he can get through to his old friend.Part of the Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge





	#36 - Paper

**Author's Note:**

> This song has gotten a lot of mockery for supposedly being about paper, but the artist has said it's a metaphor for social anxiety. This is a bit beyond anxiety, but that's where I got the idea originally.

"What are you doing here?"

"We weren't sure who else to come to. Batman said the two of you were still close."

"The two of who?"

"You and Nygma."

"What's happened?"

"He's, well, he's kind of... broken. We don't have any evidence against him for crimes that he hasn't served time for, so we can't exactly hold him as a criminal, but he doesn't seem to be functioning."

"At all?"

"Not really. We were hoping you might know what to do."

"Thank you, Jim, _old friend_ , but I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest what might be wrong with him."

"But he might talk to you?"

"I suppose..."

"Then come down to the station and pick him up."

"Fine. I'll be there shortly. You can go."

~ ~ ~

Through the haze in his mind, Ed heard the cell door open. Were they coming to get him? Who were they? The police? That made sense. Why were they after him?

_You're a mass murderer, silly, why wouldn't the police be after you?_

But where were they going to take him?

_Court? Blackgate? Arkham? Does it matter?_

Well, yes. And no. Arkham was not something he wanted to experience again, but then who was to say other prisons were any better? Especially for someone like Ed who didn't exactly exude 'dangerous'. He supposed he could always give himself up to him to survive, if he had to, but he'd prefer to avoid that.

_Aw, you're making me cry._

Don't mock me.

_Well now you will really make me cry because **you're** going to cry and we share eyes, weakling._

Name calling is a fallacy.

_Calling fallacy can be a fallacy, too, dumbass._

"Ed? Can you hear me, Ed?"

Who was that?

"Ed, you've known me for years. Over a decade."

He still couldn't make out the newcomer. _He_ had been with Ed for far longer than a decade, so it couldn't be him.

"Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot. We even lived together, for God's sake, Ed!"

Oh. Oswald. He knew Oswald. The Penguin. The man who made murder look adorable.

_He'd probably kill you just for that. I bet you'd even enjoy it. You're weird like that._

"Oh my God..."

Enjoy is the wrong word, but death would be a relief compared to what he was feeling right now and if it came at the hands of the man he loved, the man he killed, then at least his life would be poetic.

"Ed..?"

Well it was true, Ed thought, defensively. He paused. Who was laughing?

_That would be me, oh observant one._

Why are you laughing?

_You still haven't realized!_

Realized what?

_You've been speaking out loud this entire time._

I... what?

"Ed? What are you talking about? No one's laughing, Ed."

Fingers wrapped around his wrist, trying to hold him down.

"NO!" the scream tore out of his throat as he yanked himself away with all the force in his body. He ran from the person, whoever they were, only stopping when he hit metal. He sank to the floor, shaking, murmuring, "no," over and over to himself in a small, barely audible voice.

Someone lowered to the floor in front of him, a dark figure that was all the wrong shape for the scene he thought he was seeing. Why was he wearing a suit? And a top hat? And a monocle? Why did he have dark hair that stuck out like...

_Feathers_

"Oswald?"

"Yes, Ed. I am he. Oswald, that is," the figure echoed.

"Where am I?"

"You're in police custody, but they aren't going to hold you."

"Why not?"

"They don't have anything on you," Oswald informed him, "You're going to come home with me until you've got things sorted out, is that okay?"

"Get what sorted?"

"You've been speaking nonsense at the wall of your cell for the past three hours. From what I've been told, you were refusing to use anything except riddles until I got here, at least when addressed. Your one-sided conversation consisted mostly of broken sentences."

Ed sat quietly, absorbing that information.

"Let's get into this once you're out," Oswald commanded, reaching out but leaving his hand open this time, palm up in invitation. After some consideration, Ed took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and guided out of the cell. He said nothing, eyes on his feet, watching one foot pass the other, trying to concentrate on the wonders of friction that allowed for movement rather than the voice whispering in his ear.

_Now you've done it. They think you're insane. You are insane. You're little certificate proves nothing; it certainly doesn't matter to them. How long do you think it will take for them to decide to put you down like a sick puppy? It's not like you could stop them without me. And Oswald? You think he'd stop them? He might, even, because if you're a puppy then he's your master. You follow him around, copy him, hoping for a word of praise or a pat on the head. Pathetic. But how long until the act gets old? How many tricks can you do before he gets bored? They always get bored of your tricks. He'll throw you out, just like the rest of them. Or he won't, and you'll stick to him, unwanted, letting him kick you again and again in the hope that maybe, deep down, he actually cares._

"Shut up!"

"Ed?"

Ed looked up to find himself in the back of a limo, presumably Oswald's. When had they left the station?

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, there's nothing to apologize for. I am, however, deeply concerned with what mental state you're in. In all the years I've known you, you've never been this... out of touch. Care to discuss?"

"I... he..."

"He? He who?"

" _Him_. My other self. The one who is good with talking. When I became the Riddler, we sort of... merged. I became strong. Whole. I didn't need a voice anymore. But..."

"But what?"

"Lately the crimes aren't enough. They aren't enough to sustain me, and, and he's started to come back."

"How so?"

"He's in my head, reminding me of how weak I am. How I should let him take the reigns so that people will respect me. Fear me," his voice dropped to that same soft tone he'd used earlier and Oswald strained to hear, "Care..."

"Ed... earlier, you said a few things while you were talking to... him. Among them, you referenced, well, me, I think, as the man you love. Did you... mean that?"

"I said that? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ed stared at him in horror, "I, yes I meant it. Sorry."

"Good. Because I have never stopped loving you, Edward. Nygma," he echoed Ed's speech pattern from the first time they had been introduced, "And if I'm going to help you get past this, and I intend to, that will make things so very much simpler."


End file.
